


like a lark who is learning to pray

by lco123



Category: Teenage Bounty Hunters (TV)
Genre: F/F, Musical References, Post-Canon, Somewhat of an ode to the great Julie Andrews, The Sound of Music References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29664987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: As Sterling looks around the auditorium, a rush of relaxation settles in with the sense of anticipation. She knows this will be hard work, but she actually can’t wait to get started.And then the door to the theater swings open, and in walks April Stevens.The summer after junior year, Sterling and April take part in a production of The Sound of Music.
Relationships: April Stevens/Sterling Wesley
Comments: 43
Kudos: 115





	1. all i trust becomes my own

**Author's Note:**

> I know, another multi-chapter. But I don't think it'll be super long...?
> 
> This started as me thinking the other day "hmm, wouldn't it be fun if Sterling and April did theater together" and evolved into, well...this. Also, I hadn't listened to The Sound of Music in a long time, but wow that soundtrack slaps! Legit almost teared up at the thought of Hannah B. singing "Climb Ev'ry Mountain," so that's where I'm at emotionally. Thank you for allowing me to indulge in my nostalgia for being a part of theater in middle and high school.
> 
> First chapter is a lot of set-up. I'm kind of challenging myself to say more with less words, so if the style seems a little different that's why!
> 
> If you're not super familiar with The Sound of Music, this should still make sense, but I highly encourage you to listen the music, because it's great. Work and chapter titles are all song lyrics from the show.

“That’s bullshit,” is Blair’s immediate reaction, when their therapist mentions the idea of trying separate activities over the summer.

“Language,” Sterling admonishes reflexively, before flashing an apologetic smile at Laura, who on their first session suggested that Sterling let Blair express herself using whichever words feel appropriate in the moment.

“Why do you think that’s bullshit, Blair?” Laura asks, unfazed.

“Because if anything, we should be spending _more_ time together, right? Like, isn’t all of this,” Blair gestures to the room around them: the pale yellow walls, the small fountain burbling pleasantly from Laura’s desk, the early spring sun streaming through the leaded windows, “about making us feel _more_ connected? More like—like twins? Not less?”

Sterling stares down at her ankles, stomach swooping the way it does whenever anyone in their family uses the word “twins” these days.

“These sessions can be about whatever you want them to be, Blair,” Laura replies. “But Sterling has in the past voiced a desire for more boundaries in your relationship. And I think that each of you engaging in a different activity of your choosing might be a good way to establish those boundaries. This doesn’t mean your connection is in any way severed. It simply means that you’ll each have the opportunity to develop a domain of your own, to cultivate individual interests.”

Sterling feels Blair’s gaze slide up to her face, the unspoken question being what Sterling thinks of this idea.

“I like it,” she decides, and though Blair protests on the ride home, by the next morning she’s already dreaming up plans about how she might spend her summer.

“I feel like wood-working could be fun,” she muses over breakfast, mouth half-full of English muffin.

Sterling stifles a giggle.

“What?”

“Nothing. Sometimes it’s just funny to me that you’re not the gay twin.”

“You aren’t gay, though.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“Don’t stereotype, Sterl.”

And so that’s how Sterling ends up in a stuffy auditorium the second week of summer break, surrounded by a group of mostly other teenagers and a few elementary and middle school-aged kids. It’s essentially theater camp, though Sterling was informed by a very serious senior boy on their way in that this is not camp; they’re putting on a youth production, and to refer to it as anything else apparently degrades the entire experience.

Whatever it is, Sterling is happy to be here. The musical in question is _The Sound of Music_ , though that detail doesn’t really matter to Sterling. She’s here to work crew, despite Blair’s loud protestations that she should audition for an acting role.

Sterling doesn’t want to perform, but she does want to be a part of something. A project with a beginning, middle and end, an opportunity to join a community for a common goal. It’s sort of like debate, she reasons, except minus the competition (her least favorite part).

She’s sitting on one side of the auditorium with the other kids working crew, mostly quiet, nerdy types who react awkwardly when Sterling attempts to introduce herself with an enthusiastic, “How the heck are ya?”

On the other side of the theater are the actors, mostly loud and bombastic teens, some of them draping themselves dramatically across the seats while others furiously practice their audition monologues.

Sterling doesn’t know most of these kids, which doesn’t surprise her. They’re about a forty-five minute drive away from home, and the majority of the Willingham student body are on European vacations or away at church camp, a fate which Sterling and Blair only avoided because their parents can’t stand to be apart from them for more than a day post-kidnapping.

Sterling is just as happy to spend her summer with a group of strangers. Everything about Willingham feels fraught in the wake of the lock-in. Luke, thankfully, took his second rejection well, but April, well…

It wasn’t too bad at first. Sterling was devastated after April broke things off, but she had a lot to focus on what with her entire life being turned upside down, so she wasn’t too concerned with romance.

And then April showed up at school one day with fury in her eyes—the kind that, admittedly, had the potential to be a huge turn-on, before it became clear that this interaction wouldn’t end with the two of them making out in the back of the Volt or Sterling masturbating in a janitor’s closet.

Sterling could guess the words that might come out of April’s mouth, the feeling of utter betrayal that she’d mask as pure rage, but it still hurt to hear April call her a _liar_ , to tell Sterling that she’d _never trust her again_.

For the remainder of the school year, Sterling kind of felt like one of those potato bugs curling in on itself. She kept her head down, she did her work, then she and Blair marched swiftly to the car at three pm on the dot, every day. Sterling never lingered in bathrooms or hallways or Fellowship anymore. Her strategy for surviving each day was to get in and get out.

Summer felt like a far off relief, but finally it’s here, and Sterling, honestly, is delighted to have something new to focus on. The lack of familiar faces is a welcome sight.

As Sterling looks around the auditorium, a rush of relaxation settles in with the sense of anticipation. She knows this will be hard work, but she actually can’t wait to get started.

And then the door to the theater swings open, and in walks April Stevens. 

\---

“You should do something fun this summer,” her mother says, about a week after the divorce is finalized.

April is taken aback, because for the life of her she can’t ever remember either of her parents suggesting she do something just for fun, not without some caveat (a boy, a medal, bragging rights at the club) attached.

But her mother seems to be trying to give the two of them a fresh start, after the hell that this last year has been, so April spends a week thinking about an activity that she’d both enjoy and that would look good on a future resume (because why settle for just one), before deciding on this show.

April’s always enjoyed theater, always excelled at performance, earning lead roles at various church camp plays. She’d never pursue it professionally, because it’s not a stable income and actors are far too sensitive. But April figures that joining a production the summer before her senior year can’t be a bad thing, not when she’s confident that she’ll land a leading role. Ezequiel ushers at this theater on the weekends, so April’s seen some of their shows, and while the youth productions aren’t Broadway caliber they’re fairly impressive, so being a part of one won’t be an embarrassment.

Besides, she’s always liked _The Sound of Music_. It’s one of the few film she and her mom both enjoy. Her dad can’t stand it—musical theater has a tendency to bring out his homophobic side—so April’s only seen the movie twice with her mom, when John was out of town. It’s a famously long film, but that doesn’t matter; both times April’s found herself completely enraptured, her heart unexpectedly soaring the second the opening notes kick in. And honestly, of the old movies she’s seen, it features one of the only straight romances that April can get behind.

So when April waltzes into the theater, with Hannah B. and Ezequiel by her side, she’s feeling good. Confident, even, which she’s aware is a little on the nose for this particular show. She’s got her monologue and song prepared, and she’s ready to dominate.

And then a familiar flash of blonde hair enters her field of vision, and April finds her gaze being tugged to the right, settling on the unmistakable form of Sterling Wesley, curled into a seat and clearly trying not to look April’s way.

_Of fucking course._

April nearly turns right around and stomps out before realizing that doing so would be giving in, implying to Sterling that her presence impacts April in any way. Not caring is a harsher blow than hatred, April knows. So she strides to the actors’ side of the auditorium and sits down with a wide smile.

It’s easy enough to avoid Sterling on that first day. This is one of those liberally minded, “everybody gets a trophy” type productions, where anyone who auditions will be given some role. This means that the first day is all auditions, while the crew members get filled in on how to use a saw without taking off a finger, or something. 

Hannah B. auditions first, pulling off a shocking effective rendition of “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” that almost brings a tear to April’s eye.

“She’s a shoe-in for Mother Abbess,” Ezequiel whispers from beside April, and while April wouldn’t have expected it, she can’t disagree.

April herself performs “I Could Have Danced All Night” from _My Fair Lady_ , because in her opinion performing a song from the show she’s auditioning for is a little desperate, but she wants to make it clear that she can pull off a Julie Andrews number.

She’s practiced it all week with Ezequiel, and while her voice has been stellar every time, the tricky part for April has been capturing the inherent playfulness that she knows will be necessary for a proper Maria.

“You’re kind of stiff,” Ezequiel admitted after a few run-throughs in her bedroom.

“Seriously?” April replied, annoyed and a little out of breath.

Ezequiel winced. “Sorry, girl. Just telling the truth.”

“So what do I do?”

Ezequiel folded his arms, giving April that look that meant he had something to say that he knew April didn’t want to hear.

“What?” she prompted dryly.

“Well, you’ve got to believe the song. So, maybe, think about something that makes you feel the lyrics?”

April scanned through the sheet of lyrics in front of her, even though she’d already memorized the song. “It’s about beginning to fall in love,” she said quietly.

“Right.”

April sighed, holding Ezequiel’s slightly-too-knowing gaze for another beat before saying, “Alright, let me try something.”

She took a deep breath, letting the memory of Sterling kissing her in Ellen’s office wash over her for the briefest moment, and then started again.

That time through, April absolutely killed it.

“Whatever you did,” Ezequiel told her with a grin, “you’ve gotta do it every time.”

So now on stage in front of the director, April swallows, finds her stance, and indulges, fleetingly, in a recollection of Sterling’s lips pressed against hers, of that initial rush of butterflies that signified a new, joyous possibility on the horizon.

_“I’ll never know / What made it so exciting / Why all at once / My heart took flight.”_

It’s an acting exercise, April reasons. A memory. No different than thinking of something sad to make herself cry.

It has nothing to do with her current feelings for Sterling, because she has no current feelings for Sterling.

The director claps heartily as soon as she’s finished. April smiles, triumphant.

By the end of the day she’s been cast as Maria. April practically floats out of the theater, pointedly ignoring Sterling’s watchful gaze on her all the while.


	2. for fate to turn the light on

“I might have a problem,” Sterling says by way of greeting once she gets home.

“What kind of problem?” Blair asks, pausing the episode of _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ that she’s been watching from her bed and propping up on one elbow.

Sterling groans and collapses down on the bed beside Blair.

“Ah,” Blair says knowingly. “An April problem.”

“That obvious?”

“She’s the only person who makes you all pink and huffy.” Blair prods Sterling’s ribs. “So, what? She couldn’t resist the allure of amateur theater, either?”

Sterling rolls so she can face Blair. “She got cast as _Maria_.”

“Sorry, you know I’m not a musical nerd. Maria is…?”

“The lead, Blair! The third song in the show is literally called ‘Maria!’”

Blair snorts. “As if Stevens needed any more reasons to be a diva.”

“Her audition was incredible.” Sterling hugs one of Blair’s pillows, hoping it’ll quell the fluttery feeling in her chest. “And by incredible I mean, just…so freaking hot.”

“I think you and I have different definitions of the word hot.”

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

“Good point.” Blair shrugs. “So are you gonna drop out? Join my wood-working class? Rumor has it we might learn to whittle spears!”

“Hey, we talked about this.”

“No, you and Laura talked, and I agreed. Begrudgingly.”

“I don’t want to drop out,” Sterling says quietly. “I can’t avoid her forever.”

What Sterling doesn’t say, but what Blair can probably guess, is that she really has no desire to avoid April at all. The realization is startling, considering that just hours ago Sterling was rejoicing at the prospect of a summer spent with strangers, but it feels like the truth.

Yes, the second half of junior year was horrible, largely due to her failed relationship with April.

Yes, April most likely still hates her and hasn’t willingly spoken to her in months.

Yes, Sterling has zero clue about what mending their connection would look like, or if it’s even possible, much less a good idea.

But seeing April on that stage—so poised and in her element, voice clear and bright and so so pretty—reignited something that Sterling didn’t even know still existed inside her. The flame that burned brightly for April all those months ago, the one that Sterling has been trying like heck to convince herself is fully snuffed out, suddenly seems to rage inside her again.

Sterling doesn’t think she could deny it even if she wanted to. And she’s not sure she does.

“Yo,” Blair says, snapping her fingers. “Earth to Sterling.”

“Sorry.” Sterling flushes, more than she already was, and that’s all it takes. She can actually feel Blair’s eyes getting wider without looking up.

“Oh shit. You’re, like, legit still into her.” Sterling doesn’t say anything, which Blair must take as confirmation. “Damn, a little song and dance really did it for you, huh? That’s pretty gay, Sterl.”

“Weren’t you the one telling _me_ not to stereotype?” Sterling grumbles, but Blair just puts a hand on Sterling’s knee, a gentle invitation for her to externally process. “It’s not just the song. Though it really was excellent.”

“Okay, if we’re gonna do this I need to know what song we’re working with,” Blair announces, reaching for her laptop.

Sterling tells Blair what to search for, and within a minute Blair’s wrinkling her nose as the opening notes of “I Could Have Danced All Night” fill her room.

“ _That’s_ what’s got you all hot and bothered? If you’re gonna be turned on by a song, at least let it be sexy! This is, like, some crap they would have played at Big Daddy and Mother’s prom!”

“It _was_ sexy!” Sterling insists. “At least, April’s version was.”

Blair leans back, considering. “She could really do anything and you’d be into it, wouldn’t you?”

“I mean, not _anything_.” Sterling smooths her hands over the pillow. “But, like, most things, probably.”

No sooner has she said that then Sterling recognizes just how true it is. She thinks about those last few months of school, about every moment spent observing April during Forensics or Spanish or Bible study that gave her a little thrill, one she suppressed beneath layers of guilt and hurt.

“Wow, okay. So are you gonna spend all summer pining, or are you going to make a move?”

“I just figured out I liked her again.”

“Haven’t you always kind of liked her, deep down?”

And Blair is almost certainly right, because of course she is, but Sterling doesn’t really feel like getting into that now.

“Pretty sure she still hates me.”

Blair waggles her eyebrows. “Hatred’s basically just sexual tension with an ugly hat on.”

“By that logic you and she would have sexual tension, too.”

Blair makes a retching noise. “That’s disgusting, on so many levels.”

Sterling nods her agreement. “Yeah, sorry I said it.” She frowns at Blair. “You’re more…”

“What?”

“Supportive of this, I guess, than I expected.”

Sterling was actually a little nervous to bring this up to Blair on the ride home, not sure how she’d react given their rather sordid history with the Stevens family. She half-predicted Blair to try and talk Sterling out of this newfound (old-found?) attraction by insisting on setting up a dating profile for her, or something.

“Well, obviously Stevens isn’t my favorite person in the world.”

“Obviously.”

“But she clearly means something to you, and after this year it’s kinda nice to see you excited about someone.” Blair grimaces. “Ew, I don’t mean _excited_ like that. Although I’m definitely pro-you engaging in some self-love to process all of this.”

Sterling chooses to ignore the second half of that statement, instead focusing on the first part and squeezing Blair’s hand. “You’re the best sister ever, you know that?”

Blair beams. “I do.”

Sterling lets out a long breath. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Nothing, right now, though I guess she and I will be spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah. All those late nights at the theater. Ooh, maybe you’ll get the job of helping April practice a kissing scene!”

“Okay, genuine question: what do you think working crew actually entails?”

“If it doesn’t mean you get to kiss your crush,” Blair replies, “then it sounds like a waste of time.”

Sterling leans back against the headboard. “Wanna watch the beginning of _Sound of Music_ with me? I haven’t seen it in forever but I want to freshen up my knowledge.”

“Isn’t the point of summer break that we don’t have to learn any history?”

Sterling gestures for Blair to hand over her laptop, then pulls up a still from the movie of Christopher Plummer and Julie Andrews dancing. “That’s Maria and Captain Von Trapp.”

Blair’s eyes go wide. “Whoa, he’s old AF but that Von Trapp dude could get it.”

“I knew you’d be into him. Just wait till he rips a Nazi flag in half. It’s weirdly super hot.”

“Nothing weird about that, babe.” Blair rubs her hands together. “Okay, _Sound of Music_ , here we come.”

Sterling laughs, snuggling into her sister’s side, savoring this cocoon of normalcy despite the uncertainty swirling inside her.

\---

The first day of rehearsals is spent mostly learning the songs, which April is, privately, a bit disappointed about, since she spent all of last night memorizing most of her lines and was looking forward to the awe on the director’s face when he realized that she was already almost off-book.

However, the opportunity to shine during her solos is one that she absolutely relishes. She obviously has one of the stronger voices, as the lead, and she actually hears a few of the younger kids whispering, “ _Wow_ ,” as she belts out the final notes of “I Have Confidence.”

She also feels Sterling’s eyes on her. All morning long, in fact. The crew seem to be spending most of the morning talking out logistics and getting assigned their various roles, and they do so from the audience.

Sterling sits near the front, her bright blue shirt and high blonde ponytail standing out amongst the other more subtly attired crew members. April glances out at the audience from time-to-time, for no real reason other than that they’re there, and every time her eyes are unwittingly drawn toward Sterling, Sterling’s long neck is quickly darting down, gaze firmly refocusing on her lap.

It’s distracting in its childishness, so at lunch April marches over to the side of the stage where Sterling is eating with the other crew members, brushing off Ezequiel’s muttered, “Girl, what the hell are you doing?”

April crosses her arms and clears her throat, looking pointedly at Sterling, who just gapes at her, and the other people around her must take the hint, because they quickly disperse back down into the audience. (Where they belong, April thinks smugly.)

That just leaves Sterling, sitting on the the stage with her mouth full of sandwich. Her legs were swinging off the edge when April walked over but now she tucks them primly beneath her, like she’s bracing herself for something.

Good.

“Are you going to keep staring at me?” April asks.

Sterling’s eyebrows fly up but she quickly (and surprisingly) regains her composure. “It’s hard not to stare at you, April.”

April bites the inside of her cheek, actively not feeling a swoop in her stomach, as Sterling adds, “You are the lead, after all. I’m kinda supposed to keep an eye on you.”

It’s not a great excuse, but it is, probably, an easier answer to accept than the alternative. “Okay. Well, just keep it in check.”

“Am I distracting you?”

“Of course not.”

“Wanna sit?” Sterling pats the spot next to her.

“Fine,” April agrees, because she’s aware that they can’t keep doing this bizarre dance all summer.

“You’re really good, April,” Sterling says quietly once April is sitting beside her. “I mean, that’s not a surprise, I’ve heard you sing in church and stuff, but it’s cool to see you like this.”

“Why are you here?” April asks, pushing past the warm way the compliment makes her feel.

“I wanted to try something new.”

“Aren’t you and Blair usually at church camp this time of year?”

“You usually are, too,” Sterling points out.

“Well, yes,” April acknowledges, knitting her fingers together. “But my mom didn’t want to spend her first summer post-divorce all alone, so.”

Sterling offers her a soft smile. April looks away. “How are you doing with all of that?”

“That’s really none of your concern.”

“ _April_.” Her name is said in that tone of voice that’s a little too familiar, both in the sense that it betrays a level of closeness that no longer exists between them, and in the sense that April’s only heard Sterling say her name that way a few (dizzying, magical) times, yet she’s replayed those moments on a loop enough for the inflection to be fully seared into her brain.

“You didn’t answer my question,” April says, instead of answering Sterling’s.

Sterling sighs. “It’s kind of a long story. Basically, my parents didn’t want us far away, either, after some stuff that went down last year.”

April doesn’t know exactly what that means, but she has a suspicion that it has something to do with Sterling’s absence after the lock-in. April was so focused on her rage when Sterling returned that she didn’t have much space for anything else, but she did happen to notice a new level of closeness between the Wesley twins. Blair seemed to hover more, her attitude toward Sterling taking on a layer of protectiveness that April tried not to think too much about.

“I’m surprised Blair isn’t here with you.”

Sterling’s brow furrows. “Yeah, that’s kind of a long story, too.”

“Oh.”

“So, we’ll be together this summer,” Sterling prompts. “I mean, not _together_ , obviously, but like…”

“We can be mature enough to co-exist without killing each other,” April interjects. “Or at least I can.”

Sterling’s gaze cuts up at her sharply. “I never wanted to kill you. That was more your department.” Her words are low and serious, overly intimate but in a different way.

“We both want this production to be a success, I’m sure. Which means we need to be on the same team.”

“We always end up forced together, huh?” Sterling remarks with a slight grin. “Wonder if that means something.”

April scowls, her stomach churning. Sterling can’t just say these things, can’t just act like everything is fine and easy between them when she’s the one who’s ruined it, time and time again.

“It means that God is testing me,” April replies, but it doesn’t come out with much bite, and Sterling actually has the audacity to laugh. “Look, I think we can handle working together, right? We’ll just stay out of each other’s way.”

“I have no desire to get in your way.”

“That’d be a first.”

Sterling holds her gaze for a second before laughing again, and April finds herself holding back a little giggle, in spite of herself.

“Hey, did you memorize all of your lines yet?” Sterling asks.

“Most of them. Why?”

“I had a hunch you’d do that, just to prove you could.”

The surge of pride that April feels at that recognition means absolutely nothing, she decides as she rejoins Ezequiel and Hannah B. on the other side of the stage.

“You’re smiling,” Hannah B. observes.

“I’m getting in-character for the next song,” April counters, quickly rearranging her expression.

“I thought the next song was a sad one.”

“Maria is an emotionally complex character!”

April goes back to eating her lunch and looking over her script, not commenting on the little look that she can feel Hannah B. and Ezequiel exchanging above her.


	3. many a thing you know you'd like to tell her

Sterling quickly discovers that she likes the theater.

As one of the older and more responsible members of the crew, she gets assigned the role of assistant stage manager, which basically means lots of odd jobs and organization. She gets to carry around a clipboard and make lists, which makes her feel important, though she’s always sure to approach her fellow crew members with a smile when asking if they’ve completed a particular task.

She likes having something to be in charge of. It makes her think of Fellowship, of the ways she might have excelled as the leader if a certain condom wrapper hadn’t ended up in April’s hands.

(Sometimes Sterling thinks about that entire ordeal and has to laugh, because at the time she really never could have predicted where the two of them would end up just a few short weeks later, and yet in retrospect April’s fixation on her sex life makes a _lot_ of sense.)

Sterling likes the feeling of learning something new. It’s not exactly like bounty hunting—which a part of her misses, and another part of her is grateful not to be dealing with—but managing the crew provides its own set of fun challenges. Problems to solve and skills to master. She likes how one day can contain both the quiet concentration of overseeing set-painting and the burst of excitement of hearing someone nail a solo for the first time. She likes that she gets to be part of creating something.

There is the April of it all, of course, but over the first couple weeks of rehearsal they both have enough to keep them occupied that it’s hard to really focus on each other. Which is, objectively, a good thing, Sterling knows; April’s right, they both want the show to be a success. But Sterling’s stomach still jumps a bit when April walks in each day, and maybe she takes a little longer to wash her hands in the bathroom on the off-chance that April might come in, thus giving them a rare moment alone together.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Blair declares on the drive to the theater one morning, in response to Sterling requesting that Blair pick her up five minutes late that afternoon. “Why don’t you just talk to her? You had no problem jumping in head-first last time! Or lip-first, I should say.”

“That was part of the issue, I think,” Sterling says quietly. “I rushed things.”

“So, what? Your solution is to skulk around doorways waiting to run into her like some kind of bisexual Edward Cullen?”

“Don’t use my love of _Twilight_ against me.” Sterling scowls. “Also, how do we know Edward Cullen wasn’t bisexual?”

“I’m serious, Sterl. You know I support you a thousand percent, but what’s the game plan, here?”

Sterling is silent for a moment, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. There is no game plan, not really, but she can’t help feeling like this time with April is going to add up to something. Like maybe if April can get to know her in this new context—away from church and school and their parents—they might stand a chance of starting over.

And yet, as Laura has reminded her time and time again, there’s no such thing as actually starting over. What “starting over” looks like, in reality, is the hard work of forgiveness and acceptance. And maybe April isn’t ready for that, where Sterling is concerned. Maybe she never will be.

It’s too devastating a thought to verbalize right now, so instead Sterling says, “I just wanna spend more time with her.”

“Banging in the backseat time?”

“I mean, yeah. But not, like, just that.”

Sterling can feel Blair’s eyes on her before Blair sighs, “I’ll be ten minutes late today, ’kay?”

Sterling grins. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Even if your taste in women is highly questionable.”

This particular day ends up being a rare one where April and Sterling are actually sort of working together. Paul, the director, is working with the nuns while April and Sterling focus on “Do-Re-Mi,” a song which involves all of the kids and is therefore, in Ezequiel’s words, “a clusterfuck of chaos.” Which Sterling thinks is a little redundant, though she’s not about to correct him.

The kids are pretty well-behaved, but they’re still _kids_ , and after the first run-through of the song they’re already getting fidgety. Sterling’s job in this moment is to basically just keep them under control.

At first she opts for very gentle encouragement, but once she notices April’s patience starting to wane, she claps her hands together, channeling her inner youth group pastor, and announces, “Alright, everyone! Miss April is a very important part of the show and we’re not going to waste any more of her time, are we? She could be practicing her lines but she’s here with us, so let’s make the most of it! We’re going to dig way deep down and find our focus! I know we can do it!”

For whatever reason—maybe because the kids are slightly afraid of April, maybe because Sterling’s speech motivated them, maybe because April is in a noticeably better mood after Sterling refers to her as _very important_ —the kids are able to pull it together for the rest of the afternoon. Sterling is exhausted as they wrap up, but she still doles out high fives as the youngest actors file out.

Finally it really is just her and April, and Sterling is almost too tired to be an anxious idiot about that.

“ _Miss April_?” April teases as she slips her script into her bag.

“It gives you more status. Which gives you more respect.”

“How very hierarchal of you,” April remarks, but Sterling can tell she’s pleased.

“Well, it seemed to work.” Sterling slings her bag over her shoulder. Paul had to run out right at the end of rehearsal so she’s in charge of locking up today, a fact which of course makes her think of Ellen’s office, of keys being pressed into April’s palm and Sterling’s stomach swooping with anticipation.

“It did. I have to say, you handled those little monsters pretty well.”

Sterling blinks. It’s the first time April has complimented her in months. “They’re not so bad.”

April quirks an eyebrow. “Easy for you to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re _nice_.”

“You’re nice, too,” Sterling replies before she can think better of it.

A shadow passes over April’s face. What Sterling doesn’t add, but perhaps what April is thinking, is the context in which Sterling has experienced April as nice: when April was happy, when she was momentarily able to get out from under the every day pressure, when it was just the two of them, away from everything else. April was nice, and good, and so much more. Joyful. Passionate. Free.

“Well, you’re certainly more patient with them than I am,” April adds.

And part of Sterling wishes she could let that ride, could let the conversation naturally float back toward surface level, but she just can’t. “I haven’t—” she starts, words catching a bit.

April’s eyes bore into hers, bright and curious. “What?”

“I haven’t always been patient,” Sterling gets out in a rush. “Like, when it mattered.”

And April must know what she means, because her spine straightens and her lips flatten into a firm line. Sterling is sure she screwed up, is certain April is about to march right out of here without another word, but instead April lets a small, “Thank you,” slip out before saying, “See you tomorrow,” in a louder voice, heading toward the door.

By the time Sterling has registered the response, April is gone. Sterling is a little shaky as she locks up and heads outside, where Blair is waiting.

“Stevens walked out of there with a very weird vibe,” Blair reports. “Did you accidentally spill that you’re in love with her?”

“Nothing like that,” Sterling replies, pulling her feet up to the seat and cupping her hands around her knees, just for something to hold onto. “But, um, I feel like we had some kind of progress? Or…or something?”

“It’s always ‘or something’ with you two,” Blair groans, but she gamely processes the entire exchange with Sterling for the rest of the ride home.

\---

April did ballet when she was younger, and she exercises regularly now, so she knows how to use her body. She understands the proper form of various dances, the difference between clean and sloppy footwork, and she can keep up without getting winded.

But it’s something different to dance and act at the same time. _Sound of Music_ isn’t exactly a dance-heavy show, but there’s one number, the Laendler, that April is having trouble with. Her feet and her face can never seem to get in sync.

She suspects that one reason she’s struggling is because this is one of the more romantic moments in the show, and try as she might, April is having a very difficult time manufacturing chemistry with her male co-star. Jason is a nice enough guy, most likely straight if the way he smiles at Sterling is any indication, but not in a way where he seems to feel the need to prove it to everyone.

But, well, part of the reason why April’s never attempted to go through the charade of a boyfriend is because she’s just…not very good at faking it with men. It’s always seemed like one step too far in hiding her sexuality, one sacrifice she wasn’t quite willing to make. So she didn’t ever force herself to get proficient at it.

And yet, April reminds herself, this is _acting_ , which she is good at, so surely she can sell a few moments of romance. Jason, for his part, is bringing it, and April can do the same, especially if it’s what the director is asking of her.

One afternoon, while Jason is practicing his “The Sound of Music” reprise with the younger kids, Paul asks April to go over the Laendler a few more times.

“With whom?” April replies, gesturing at a still-occupied Jason.

Paul does a quick scan of the actors still onstage, before his eyes settle on Sterling, who’s telling something to Ezequiel.

Paul smiles, and April realizes a second before he calls Sterling’s name what he’s going to suggest.

“You know the steps to the Laendler, right?” he asks once Sterling walks over.

Sterling frowns but then nods. “Sure.”

“And you’re about Jason’s height,” Paul remarks. “Think you can help April out?”

Sterling blinks in April’s direction, the expression on her face seeming to indicate a silent, _This okay?_

Of course it isn’t okay, but April isn’t about to unpack why with Paul and Sterling standing right here, so she nods curtly and Sterling agrees to help.

Which is how April ends up on a corner of the stage with Sterling standing in front of her and Hannah B. and Ezequiel watching from the side with overly amused expressions. Somehow they insisted on being a part of this, saying they could play the part of the kids, which so far has included a lot of childish giggling.

Sterling bites her lip, annoyingly, and then asks, “You ready?”

“Of course,” April replies, taking Sterling’s hands before she can think too much about it.

April isn’t really focused on the Sterling of it all, not at first. She’s concentrating on her footwork, making sure she gets the steps right. Of course, as the woman, her part of the dance is more complicated, plus she’s in her character shoes.

Sterling keeps right up, her steps not exactly precise but close enough. When she fumbles a spin and flashes April an apologetic wince, April bites back her immediate impulse to snap at Sterling or restart the routine, instead offering her a small smile.

That seems to provide all the reassurance Sterling needs, and she continues with more confidence, gamely clapping along at the rather ridiculous part of the dance where April swishes her skirt in a circle around Sterling.

April is doing so well just thinking about her feet against the stage and her arms moving in time, and _not_ thinking about Sterling, but then they get to the moment where Sterling reaches back to pull April forward and twirl her to the front, and suddenly their faces are quite close, and April is very aware of what’s happening.

 _She and Sterling are dancing._ Sterling’s warm, soft hand is in hers, and they’re moving together, and Sterling is giving her that _look,_ the one that landed April in the backseat of the Volt all those months ago.

She wants to stop, to stomp away and announce that this was a terrible idea, but she can’t, because then she’d have to explain why, and then she wouldn’t be touching Sterling, and both of those outcomes seem absolutely unbearable right now.

So instead April continues dancing, and of course this is where the dance gets truly intimate; this is, in fact, the closest thing _Sound of Music_ gets to sexy, and April is distantly aware that she and Sterling are probably unintentionally really selling it.

Sterling’s arm slips behind April’s waist, pulling her close for the end of the number, and April basically has no choice but to either look at Sterling’s lips or into her eyes. She opts for the latter, seeing hope and maybe a little wonder shining back at her.

April remembers the first time Sterling looked at her that way, after they kissed in Ellen’s office—or really, the first time she allowed herself to acknowledge it, since Sterling had been looking at her differently for days at that point. No one had ever looked at April that way before, and certainly no one else has since.

The recognition of that sends a peculiar burst of nostalgia and longing rushing through April’s abdomen. She tries to blink it away, which is hard when she can feel the warmth of Sterling’s body right here. She registers that Sterling’s breathing a little hard from the admittedly not very athletic dancing (Sterling’s never been particularly in shape, but April’s always—secretly—been kind of charmed by that), and it makes April think of the other times she’s heard Sterling breathe this way.

Like, for example, when April was trailing kisses up her neck while they were pressed together in a bathroom stall at the Fun Zone.

 _Jesus_ , April thinks, more an exclamation than a prayer, as that memory unwittingly draws her gaze to Sterling’s throat.

Their faces are close enough to touch, now, close enough that April could very easily lean up and kiss Sterling right on the mouth, which is kind of the point of the number, but then Sterling stops moving and drops her hands.

April just stands there, trying to regulate her own breathing, which is coming faster, but not from the dancing. She feels utterly useless as she stares at Sterling, chest feeling tight in a way both familiar and new, but still so much. Too much.

The silence seems to stretch forever, until finally Hannah B. (who April had honestly forgotten even existed) chirps, “Your face is all red.”

“No, it’s not!” April snaps on instinct, hands lifting to her cheeks, which are indeed quite hot.

Sterling’s eyes widen. “You missed your cue,” she whispers. “That’s the next line in the script.”

April swallows and shakes her head before finally tearing her gaze away from Sterling. “Right.” She turns toward Hannah, who’s giving her a cautious look. “Sorry.”

Hannah’s forehead creases but then she smiles. “It’s okay. Your acting was really great that time."

“Yeah,” Ezequiel adds, voice dripping with implication. “You seemed really in-character.”

Sterling has taken a step back, and when April chances a glance her way she sees Sterling staring back at her, a completely unsubtle expression on her face.

“Sterling!” one of the crew members shouts from backstage.

“I’ve gotta—” Sterling starts, jerking her thumb to the side.

April nods. “Sure. Thanks for the help.”

“My pleasure.” Sterling, who somehow managed to make it through the dance without hurting herself, practically trips over her own feet as she rejoins the rest of the crew backstage.

April turns back to Ezequiel and Hannah B. with her hands on her hips, a pose that would probably be more commanding if she couldn’t feel that her cheeks are still on fire.

“Ready to move on?” she prompts.

Ezequiel looks at Hannah B., one well-manicured eyebrow arching high.

“What?” April asks gruffly.

“Oh nothing, girl,” Ezequiel replies with a smile. “Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, [here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUFBOC6lQoo) the movie version of the dance April and Sterling are rehearsing.


	4. there must have been a moment of truth

Sterling certainly isn’t surprised that April tries to keep some distance between them in the aftermath of their dance, but it bothers her more than she’d like to admit. She gets it; that dance was easily the most intimate the two of them have been in ages (she certainly hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it), and they were in front of other people, and though Sterling suspects that April is still trying to hold firm to the harsh words she hurled at Sterling last year, she also knows that she gets under April’s skin. So it makes sense that April would pull away even more, but that doesn’t mean Sterling likes it.

The thing is, April isn’t quite as successful at the whole distance thing as she probably thinks she is. Sterling suspects that might have something to do with the fact that she’s good at being assistant stage-manager, and April has always appreciated a job well done. Sterling is in her element here, and she’s pretty sure that would be the case even if April wasn’t a part of the show.

But having April in the same room as her turns Sterling on in more ways than one. Feeling April’s eyes tracing her form from the other side of the stage lights a fire in Sterling, makes her want to excel a bit more, to show off a bit. When she knows April is nearby, she chooses her words with careful precision and attempts to stand even taller. Whatever she’s doing must be working, because as the days roll along, Sterling senses April’s attention drifting toward her again and again.

Since Sterling is doing so well, Paul starts having her manage a lot of the song rehearsals and scene run-throughs while he attends to more urgent matters. April, being off-book and brilliant and good at everything, rarely needs Paul’s extra attention, so that means she’s usually assigned in the group with Sterling.

On the first day of this arrangement, Sterling gives April her space. She knows she rushed things last time, and she really is trying to get better about that, to let people make their own choices rather than nudging them in her preferred direction.

But it’s so hard when April will barely meet her eyes and seems determined to communicate with her in as few words as possible.

(Deep down, Sterling recognizes that April’s cold-shoulder is likely an indication of how much the dance meant to her, of how deeply she still cares, after everything, but Sterling’s working very hard to tamp that excitement down before it gets her into trouble.)

By the end of the first week, however, Sterling can’t stand it anymore. She corners April on a water break, speaking quickly before April can finish taking a drink, and forcing herself to not stare at the beads of sweat sliding down into April’s cleavage.

“Are you uncomfortable working with me?”

April licks her lips ( _Good Lord_ , Sterling’s whole body seems to gasp) and slowly sets her water bottle down. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re avoiding me,” Sterling replies plainly. “And, um, I don’t want things to be awkward, so if you’re not okay working with me—”

“I think I’ve proved myself capable of compartmentalization, Sterling.”

“Well, yeah, but obviously a lot went down on—with!” Sterling winces, as she sees April fight a bemused smile. “ _Between_ the two of us.”

“That was a while ago.”

“Not really.”

April glances to the side and Sterling follows her gaze, seeing the sophomore playing Liesl staring at them nervously. “We should get back.”

“Right,” Sterling recognizes. “From the top, yeah?”

It’s not like the conversation is terribly productive, but it does seem to thaw something between the two of them. Maybe it’s because even after everything there’s still a comfort in how long they’ve known each other, or maybe it’s because in the midst of a long and exhausting rehearsal, April’s no-nonsense attitude is a winning match with Sterling’s enthusiastic encouragement, or maybe it’s for reasons that make Sterling’s heart start pounding harder with hope, but she and April always seem to end up together.

Not _together_ together, though a girl can dream, but together in a very literal sense. Solving a challenging bit of choreography at the same exact moment. Co-coaching the junior playing Rolfe into successfully nailing the melody of his solo for the first time. Having nearly identical ideas about how a certain prop or part of a costume can be used to its maximum effect.

April is a natural leader, and she’s not about to take instruction from Sterling without some pushback, but it actually works. They compliment each other in rehearsals, each of them taking the reins when appropriate. April—of course—has lots of opinions about how her character should move and talk, and her instincts are almost always correct.

They’re a good team. They always have been, and whatever lingering energy that exists between the two of them channels well into this new medium. Sterling distantly realizes that they would make Ellen proud.

And, well, it’s impossible not to be captivated by April. Sterling wouldn’t say that April comes alive when she performs, because April is always fiercely alive, vibrant energy humming down to the very tips of her fingers. But another quality comes over her on stage, a confidence and serenity that Sterling finds absolutely breathtaking. She embodies Maria, which is rather surprising considering that the character is described as “flighty,” and April is anything but.

Sterling voices that observation to April one afternoon, unable to hold the thought in after witnessing April’s exuberant rendition of the title song, and April quirks a signature eyebrow in response.

“It’s called acting,” April replies.

“Well, duh, and you’re great at it!” Sterling says, concerned that what was meant to be a compliment is coming across as a vague insult. “I’m just saying, you, uh, contain multitudes.”

April’s half smile tugs up a little higher on one side, threatening to slip into the genuine grin that Sterling adores. “I’m not the only one.”

Sterling bites down on her own smile, because she knows it’ll be big and goofy. April, shockingly, doesn’t look away, her eyes shining brightly back at Sterling, and the moment feels oddly private considering that they’re surrounded by about forty other kids.

April clears her throat. “You know, Julie Andrews contains multitudes, too.”

Sterling honestly couldn’t care less about Julie Andrews right now, but she doesn’t want this interaction to end, so she says, “Oh yeah?”

“Most certainly. Have you ever seen _Victor/Victoria_?”

Sterling hasn’t, though she decides right then and there that she will, and soon, if it gives her something else to talk to April about.

That Friday is family movie night, a new and kind of great tradition in the post-kidnapping world, and it’s Sterling’s turn to pick.

“I want to watch _Victor/Victoria_!” she announces without hesitation.

Her father gives her a weird look. “I’m sorry, what's that, now? Since when do you know any movies made before the year 2000?”

“It’s a classic, Dad!” Sterling argues.

She nudges Blair, who’s been sitting on the couch next to her for the last five minutes but apparently hasn’t heard a word they’ve said. “Sorry, what?”

Sterling looks at her sister intently.

 _Back me up here, I want to watch_ Victor/Victoria _._

_Why are you saying that title like it’s just something I should know?_

_April recommended it._

_Ah, okay. Now I understand. So it’s probably some boring old subtitled movie?_

_It’s a musical!_

_Barf._

_And it’s kind of gay, I think._

_And you wanna watch it with Mom and Dad?_

_Do you think that’s a bad idea?_

_I think it’s entirely up to you. But if I agree to this we’re watching the new_ Child’s Play _next weekend._

_You know that’s gonna be a hard no from Mom._

_Not if you get onboard!_

“Girls!” Anderson cuts in. “Could you loop me in, please?”

“ _Victor/Victoria_ it is,” Blair declares.

 _Victor/Victoria_ is, as it turns out, kind of gay. One of the main characters is a gay man, and Julie Andrews is pretending to be one, too, while also doing female drag. It’s not exactly progressive by today’s standards; Sterling’s been trying to educate herself more on LGBTQ matters, and she knows that there would be some definite changes if the film was made now.

But it feels queer and campy in a way that’s still new to Sterling, in a way that sends a strange little jolt of excitement running through her, a peculiar sense of belonging. (Plus, she thinks she could make a strong case that both romantic leads are bi.)

The first time the word “gay” is used, Sterling feels her mom’s eyes briefly cut over to her. Sterling keeps looking at the TV, even as her cheeks get a little hot.

She hasn’t come out to her parents, but Sterling knows that she isn’t the most subtle person in the world. There’s something simultaneously dangerous and freeing about testing the waters like this, and she’s been doing it more lately. Innocuously bringing up an out celebrity to her mom, incorporating a few more rainbows in her wardrobe, asking her dad’s opinion on certain Bible verses.

Sterling figures that after this last year, coming out as bi is hardly going to be the bombshell to destroy the family. She can sense her parents picking up on _something_ , and there have been more than a couple exclamations that they “love her no matter what,” though those could honestly be for Dana reasons just as well as queer reasons. But Sterling can feel herself inching closer to the closet door.

“Where’d you hear about this movie, hun?” Debbie asks with a bit of forced casualness.

Sterling is rather enraptured by the angle of Julie Andrews’ jawline—yeah Julie looked good in _Sound of Music_ , but who knew the grandma from _Princess Diaries_ could be so _hot_?—so Blair answers, “From April Stevens.”

Sterling’s eyes dart back over to Blair, who offers an apologetic shrug.

Debbie looks at Sterling for a long second, before replying, “I’m glad you two are getting close again.”

“I wouldn’t say close,” Sterling says quietly.

“You sure mention her a lot,” Anderson argues, attention mostly still on the movie. “Wait, is Lesley Ann Warren a drag queen, too?”

“No, Dad,” Blair sighs. “Keep up.”

“You know what’s a fun movie?” Anderson says. “ _Clue_. I think that’ll be my pick for next movie night.”

Blair smiles, impressed. “Wow, I appreciate the eclectic choice! _Clue_ is high camp. Guess we can’t call you basic anymore.”

“You call me basic?”

“I mean, sorry not sorry, but in what world is _The Masked Singer_ not basic?”

“It’s a delightful show!”

Debbie rolls her eyes fondly at the two of them, while Sterling’s gaze volleys nervously between the film and her family. Once Blair and Anderson have calmed down, Debbie murmurs, “I’m a little surprised April Stevens would watch something like this.”

Sterling’s stomach jolts. She wants to ask why but is terrified the answer will be something along the lines of, _because it’s so gay._

“She’s got eclectic taste, too,” Blair offers, squeezing Sterling’s hand.

Sterling can feel her mom squinting at her now. “It would seem so.” Debbie is silent for another second before adding, “Well, you should invite her over sometime, Sterling. Been far too long.”

Sterling grins and squeezes Blair’s hand tighter. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.”

**Sterling Wesley**

_So I watched it_

**April Stevens**

_Watched what?_

**Sterling Wesley**

_Victor/victoria!!_

**April Stevens**

_And?_

**Sterling Wesley**

_Julie can rock a suit_

**April Stevens**

_That’s your takeaway? Nothing about her range as an actress?_

**Sterling Wesley**

_Oh yeah she has tons of range but she’s also HOT_

**April Stevens**

_Omg, you truly have a one-track mind._

**Sterling Wesley**

_r you going to deny it?_

**April Stevens**

_…No. She knows how to take off a pair of suspenders._

**Sterling Wesley**

_right??? omg I was watching with my parents and got so red during that part_

**April Stevens**

_With your parents?! What did they think?_

**Sterling Wesley**

_They actually really liked it. And B did too even if she wouldn’t admit it_

**April Stevens**

_Well I’m glad it was enjoyed by all._

**Sterling Wesley**

_it rlly was. Thx for the rec_

**Sterling Wesley**

_You could totally play that role_

**April Stevens**

_I wasn’t fishing for that._

**Sterling Wesley**

_I kno. im offering it_

**April Stevens**

_I’d look good in a suit._

**Sterling Wesley**

_Oh u sure would. And youd look good taking it off too_

**Sterling Wesley**

_sorry too much??_

**April Stevens**

_No. Good night, Sterl_

**Sterling Wesley**

_Night. See you tomorrow xx_

\---

“So I’ve been reading about the real Maria Von Trapp,” April mentions, leaning against the bathroom sink.

Sterling props her hip against the opposite sink, eyes bright. “Oh yeah? What are you learning?”

April smiles, pleased to see Sterling’s genuine interest. They started talking about their latest favorite books while washing their hands, but that was at least five minutes ago, now.

“She didn’t actually fall in love with the Captain.”

“Really?”

April nods. “She loved the kids, so she chose to stay. Which makes a lot more sense to me. Seems like such a waste to throw one’s entire life plan away for a man.”

Sterling rolls her eyes, but she’s fighting a grin. “But they got married.”

“People get married for all sorts of reasons that have nothing to do with love. Look at my parents.” April means it lightly, though Sterling still starts a bit, which is understandable. They haven’t talked about April’s family at all this entire summer.

“You don’t think your parents ever loved each other?”

April sighs. “I think love is a lot more complicated than most stories would have us believe.”

Sterling’s eyes go wide. Or, wider than usual. April inhales sharply. She hadn’t meant for them to get into this murky territory; she really just wanted to share this interesting information with Sterling, but it suddenly feels like they’re talking about something else entirely.

“Anyway, it’s pretty incredible,” April redirects, “that she would uproot her life to take care of these children who weren’t even hers. Though I suppose she thought of them as hers, ultimately.”

A shadow crosses Sterling’s face, one April isn’t used to seeing. “Yeah,” she says quietly.

“I mean, deciding to become a mother to someone else’s kids is a huge sacrifice. They must have been pretty damn charming, for her to just—”

“Can we talk about something else?”

April frowns. Sterling hasn’t cut off a single conversation since they started talking again. “Of course. We should get back to rehearsal, anyway.”

For the rest of the day, Sterling is in a bit of a strange mood. She’s out of it, off her game, and is alternating between avoiding April’s gaze altogether and shooting her these apologetic little glances whenever she thinks April isn’t looking. Instead of lingering around at the end of the day, she rushes off, the Volt already careening out of the parking lot by the time April unlocks her Jeep.

April’s stomach flips uncomfortably, concern mixed with anger at herself for caring, for letting Sterling Wesley’s mood impact her in any way.

At lunch the next day, Sterling approaches her, asking if they can talk.

“We don’t have to,” April assures her, aiming for casual, though that’s never come naturally.

“I want to,” Sterling says. “But, um, privately?”

Ezequiel and Hannah B. are suddenly quite engrossed in their debate over which former Fifth Harmony member has the best voice, so April collects her lunch and follows Sterling through the backstage area into one of the dressing rooms.

“So,” Sterling starts once she’s closed the door and sat down on one of the stools. Her fingers drum against the counter and her eyes refuse to settle.

“What is it?” April asks, surprised by how gentle it comes out.

“I, uh, feel like I should explain my reaction in the bathroom yesterday.”

“That’s really unnecessary.”

“No, I want to,” Sterling insists. “And I got clearance, so—”

“Clearance?”

“From Blair.”

April tilts her head to the side. “What in the world does the Von Trapp Family have to do with Blair?”

Sterling takes a deep breath. “Well, what you were saying about taking care of someone else’s kid, it sort of struck a nerve. Because, um, that’s me.”

“What?”

“I’m someone else’s kid,” Sterling says, voice trembling a little. “My—my mom had a twin that I didn’t know about, and it turns out that she’s my biological mother.”

“You and Blair are the Wesleys’ nieces?”

April can tell Sterling’s been fighting tears, but now they start to spill over. “Just me.”

April’s mouth drops open. Her head feels like it’s spinning. “What—but you guys are twins.”

“Raised that way, and according to our parents and therapist, we still are in every way that counts. But, uh, not technically speaking.”

“Wha…” April gapes, attempting to form coherent thought, which is basically a losing battle. “When did you find out?”

Sterling quickly wipes a tear off her cheek, eyes darting around before focusing on April’s. “The night of the lock-in, actually.”

April’s chest immediately feels tight. She had been so preoccupied with her hurt and eventual rage back then, but she knew, she _knew,_ something was going on with Sterling. She’d chalked it up to sadness and guilt, then forced herself not to think about it because it seemed like anything Sterling-adjacent could only lead to more pain. She felt betrayed and confused and so, so angry, and at the time all of those feelings seemed perfectly justified.

But now, Jesus, now, it seems that Sterling was going through a hell of her own. Everything she thought she understood about her life had been a lie. And it turns out April knows exactly what that feels like.

“Sterling, I’m—”

Sterling reaches forward, covering April’s hands with her own. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry.”

“I am, though. That was—and I was—”

“How could you have known?”

Tears start to prick at the corners of April’s eyes. “I never asked.”

Sterling strokes her thumb across the top of April’s knuckles, and there’s the jolt of excitement that always appears, annoyingly, when Sterling touches her, but there’s warmth underneath it, too.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to, after…” Sterling shakes her head. “I’m sorry about that. I said that before but—”

“I didn’t listen.”

“I never wanted to lie to you,” Sterling says softly. “Blair and I made a promise to each other, though, and I never really thought—but then you and I happened, and it was, like, the most amazing thing ever, and I didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.”

April tries to breathe in slowly. Her brain and her heart feel like they’re at war with one another, the undeniable high of hearing Sterling talking about the two of them mingling with the still-present (but, admittedly, dwindling) anger at being kept in the dark for so long. “I still wish you’d told me about my dad.”

“I know.”

“Your family stuff—” April says, aware that their conversation has drifted. “How are you doing with all of that?”

Sterling shrugs, the gesture doing nothing to mask the heaviness of this situation. “Some days are better than others. It was really hard, at first. But I think we’re moving in the right direction.”

April shifts in her seat. “Why did you want me to know?”

Sterling’s eyes lock onto hers with enough intensity to make April's hair stand on end. “Because…because you matter to me.”

April bites down so hard on her bottom lip that she can taste blood.

“And,” Sterling continues, “because you should know why I wasn’t—why I didn’t—”

“What?” April asks, nearly breathless.

“It was a terrible time for both of us, but nothing that happened changes the way I feel about you.” Sterling’s words are quiet but clear. April could have a heart attack right then and there.

“Don’t you mean _felt_?” she has to clarify.

“No.”

April dimly recognizes that Sterling’s hand is still covering hers, and the pressure is heavy and hot. April feels like her hand has developed a pulse, and it seems to thrum against Sterling’s. She knows she should say something, but words feel entirely intangible right now.

“Sterling!” a voice calls distantly from the other side of the door. Paul, April registers belatedly. “Have you seen April? We’re gonna run through ‘Something Good.’”

“We’ve gotta go,” Sterling whispers, withdrawing her hand.

April nods numbly, following Sterling out of the room, her eyes bobbing along to the swish of Sterling’s ponytail.

April really does try to focus on Jason, but of course this number is the most romantic of the entire show, and by the end of the first verse, her attention has drifted to Sterling, just off-stage:

_“Somewhere in my wicked, miserable past / There must have been a moment of truth”_

Sterling is staring back, smiling so softly, as April sings the next line:

_“For here you are, standing there, loving me / Whether or not you should”_

There are tears in April eyes that she manages to sell as an acting choice. Somehow she makes it to the end of the song, though she almost loses it when she gets to the last recitation of:

_“Nothing comes from nothing, nothing ever could / So somewhere in my youth or childhood / I must have done something good”_

When they finish the number, April sees Sterling wiping at her cheeks, before clapping along with the rest of the wildly impressed group.

Maybe April imagines it, but she swears Sterling’s cheers are the loudest in the entire theater.


End file.
